Jamie is sitting at home one evening, when his phone suddenly begins to ring. He leans across his desk and picks it up, looking at the number displayed before answering.
"Murdoc?!" he mutters to himself quizzically. He shrugs and answers it, wondering what the demonic, old, cartoon bassist, could possibly want.
"Jamie! Jah, Jamieee? Err, no. Wait issss, Jeramy isn', iss, n't it? Heh, heh. Whoops, ahhh, drop, dropped mah, my thing. (The sound of something crashing, quickly followed by the sound of the phone being dropped, as Murdoc grumbles inaudibly to himself. There is a slight pause, followed by the sound of Murdoc's voice from a distance.) Now, lis, lis, listen.... err? Hang on? Where did the bloody phone go? (The sound of rustling and bottles clinking together.) Ahhh, there you are. Now, ahem. Jah, Jamery. Mate, maaaate. Listen okay? Coz right? I, I, I have thisss, this thing. It's a good thing and I want tah, tah give it to someone. No, but it's alright you know. Yeah. Coz I went to the eh, clinic, and they said it would clear up in no time....? Wait? Mah, maybe I shouldn't of told you that? Look! Jah, just shuddup a minute, and stah, stop messin' about. I'm sah, serious, right? I have this ah, ah, other thing. It's sort of a dinner, lunch, breakfast piece of crrrraaaap and...? No it's snot? Buuuut it is? No. Dah, does, doesn't matter. Bah, bah, but I want to take that girl. The one with that tank thing... waah, wasser name? (The sound of breaking glass.)Ah fuck! Stabbed meself. Tank! Thing, girl...? Tank Girl. Her! You did her or some rubbish? Look, I, I, I want her phone number, so I can drag her to tha, tha, this piece of crappo do. And I won't even haffta come over to yer house, and set fire to anythin'. You know? (The sound of someone knocking on Murdoc's door.)Wha? Oh fuck oooooff. I'm on the bloody phone. Wah, wait a minute. Wait dah, David. I just have, have to... (The sound of the phone being dropped again, followed by Murdoc's footsetps and a door being opened.) (In the distance.) "Wha? Who the bloody Hell are you? (Pause.) Good news? (Pause.) Do I look like a Christian to you? (The sound of someone being punched, and a door slamming. Footsteps returning, and the phone being picked up again.) "Sah, sorry bout that luv. There wah, was a moron at the door. S'ok, he's gone now. Luv! Today is yer lucky day. Coz right, Mah, Murdoc Nicaals has an offer you can't re, re, refuse. I wah, wanna take you to this thing wotsit, and yer gunna haffta bring yer tank. Coz listen, right. I reckon it's gunna be crap, shit... Just yeah, total shhhhhhit. But later we, we, we can go down town... maybe to London? I'm not promising anything. And just blow some shit up. Just, just blow it up! Then right, yeah, yeah! Then, waheeee, can go to Wimble, wimb, wim, wimble... Womble? Wombledon Common. And yah see, that, that idiot Orinoco bastard! I'm, I'm, I told him! I did. I sssaid it, and he just didn't listen. No. Didn't listen. It's been two days now, and I'm not going to wait anymore. Just have to do it I'm afraid. But don't worry luv, there'll be plenty of Womble steaks fer everybody. Ferget the kangaroo luv! Just you, me and the tank. It'll be great. Trust me, I'm a Satanist."
"What exactly are you planning to do to the Womble, Murdoc?" Jamie finally manages to ask. There's a very long pause before Murdoc finally speaks again.
"Who the bloody Hell is this?!" he screeches down the phone at Jamie.
"Jamie Hewlett." the cartoonist answers calmly, placing his elbow on the desk and propping his chin up with the heel of his palm.
"Look mate! If you don't stop ringing and harassing me with yer daft questions? Ehhh, I don't think wombles will be high on yer list of problems, right!?"
The sound of the phone being slammed down in the cartoonist's ear, makes him flinch a little, but he still can't help breaking out in a huge smile. He looks at the phone for a moment before hanging up.
"I've created a monster." he chuckles. And switching off his lamp, he stands up, and heads off to bed.